Tag Archive: Life


Three Things

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A beautiful friend of mine has recently started a business pushing (sorry selling) make up. Now if you know much about me, you’ll know that make up is one of those things that is a very low priority in my life. I wear it on stage or for special occasions, I’m just too lazy to bother with that in my everyday. I’m not going to write here about my lack skill or disinterest in make up, what I am going to comment on is something I think is incredibly important – women’s self esteem.

Now my friend knows the women she has targeted, we’re nerdy, geeky and a few other fun descriptors, so she caters to that by running fun little competitions. Her interactive approach certainly dragged me in. But targeted marketing is not my topic.

What has driven me to write this post is one of the games she posted where it said: what would your warning label say and state three things you like about yourself. Can you guess which part sparked this blog post?

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The warning part turned out to be easy. Everyone can have a little fun with that. Turns out though that writing publitlythree things you like about yourself is somewhat more difficult.

Part way through writing my three things I started to feel guilty that I hadn’t written down anything about being a wife/mother or family related. I don’t know if its’ just me or women in general but so much of our identity is derived from others, at least when talking in a public forum. My family are hugely important to me and I’m incredibly happy with my life for the most part. Sure there are always things that aren’t perfect, but what is a perfect life and why would i want it anyway when I am clearly not perfect. That may be a whole other thought stream though, so back to my current topic.

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When I settled on my three things I’ll admit to being a little surprised that I could have written more, so I will use this opportunity to get into this a little more. This may seem a little self indulgent but it’s my post and I’m going to be unapologetic about it.

Things I like about myself:

My brain, it functions well. I read, think and love to learn.

My body, I have abs, I worked hard for them, I needed to as I’m in my 40’s, have had two kids and wasn’t blessed with a metabolism that means I can eat what I want. I am stronger and fitter now than i was in my skinnier, younger years. The problem is when I google my ideal weight, I am currently apparently over weight. Crap is what I say to that. If I got down to my ‘ideal’ weight, what I would lose is most of my muscle mass and I like being strong. Sure I wish the last o f my mummy tummy would go the heck away but I’m pretty damn proud of this body of mine otherwise.

As a person I’m proud of my determination, fierce loyalty and my work ethic. I am comfortable with the fact I am a complex creature who is basically an introvert. I love feeling capable and strong. I have a giggle when people say I’m scary and feel a little bemused when people call me inspiring. I enjoy my job, to the bemusement of most and I’m proud to say I’m a published author – though part of me is still a little disappointed I had to do it myself in the end. I know I don’t comfortably fit into the boxes society likes to use and I’m good with that. My friends are the ones who accept the many, sometimes broken layers, of who I am, abrasive edges and all.

Now to the point of this self indulgence. Introspection. It’s always good to acknowledge our strengths. Knowing what we like about ourselves can help us through the harder and darker moments of life, if we allow ourselves to embrace them.

This leads nicely to the second part of my thought process from that little game. Whilst the warning part was easy and many participated, more than a few didn’t write anything for this second part. I haven’t asked why this is but I do have a few speculations. When life isn’t perfect, or even good, it can be hard to see the positive to find the things we like. Most of us don’t like to toot our own trumpets because we are socially coerced into believing it is wrong, arrogant or something. Thirdly, sometimes we just don’t know how to answer that question, when taking a close look at ourselves it’s so much easier to see the flaws and things we don’t like.

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This is sad. Think about it. So much of what society pushes subliminally (and sometimes not that subtly) is that a successful woman is one who adheres to, or measures up against certain stereotypes and appearances. We are judged by how we fit into the boxes, not how we colour those boxes in. Women are still taught not to rock the boat, we still know that our success can be undercut by men – this is how Weinstein got away with what he did. We are shown pretty pictures and told, this is the ideal.

Well I’m going to call bullshit. Women are varied, and strong and flawed and more than capable in achieving whatever goals they set for themselves. Sometimes our own worst enemy is ourselves, we allow ourselves to quietly sit where society has placed us, we pick on other women who don’t fit that norm and thereby reinforce the crap. It is time we stopped doing that. It is time we embraced ourselves for the awesomeness  and individuality that is in all of us.

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After all this my point simply is, finding three things about ourselves that we like shouldn’t be hard, and certainly admitting and embracing them shouldn’t be shied away from. i challenge you to look deeply into yourself. Look at your perceived flaws from a different perspective (I’m not bossy or a bitch, I’m organised and focused, I get shit done). Look at yourself in a positive light, examine the things that make you you. The sum of your parts, good bad, indifferent, is what makes you interesting. It is what makes you not fit the mould and proves you are no Stepford woman. Look at your body and be proud. Look at your achievements and what you do well and take satisfaction in them. Look at your personality and shout about how awesome you are.

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There is an old Japanese custom where a broken item is repaired with gold, making it more beautiful because of it’s flaws. It is about time we allowed ourselves to embrace this.

I am flawed and I am awesome.

Shout it, believe it.

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#MeToo

I nearly didn’t post that hash tag for a number of reasons but not because it wasn’t me. Mostly, or in a large part I would say it was because these days my version of calling you out is to dish what is thrown at me, right back at the person who dished it. You want to comment about my tits I will comment about your dick, or agree with you about how great they are and clearly let you know that they aren’t yours to play with and never will be, you get the idea. If you dish it out you’d better not whinge when I pitch it back. I do this because , at least in my mind, it levels the playing field and lets you know your words have no power over me. I will not as a general rule ignore it, I will not be quiet and let it ride with no rebuttal.

I want to break this down a little. I wasn’t a popular kid. I was teased a lot. I never really thought of it as bullying, but that’s what it was. In those days it was almost always verbal amongst girls or when you were a girl, things have changed a lot as far as that goes. As a result of that teasing I developed a coping mechanism – words. Often bigger words and smarter sentences so I could laugh to myself when the bullies responses missed the mark.

When I was younger the teasing was pretty universal, girls were as bad as the boys. As I got older girls/women somehow recognised their words had little effect or simply decided I wasn’t worth the effort. Boys/men seemed somewhat more oblivious or entitled. Even when I was married and watching my hubby at a gig, guys would approach me and ignore my words of ‘leave me alone’ and ‘I’m not interested’. One night I had to go as far as to tell the pest quite clearly that if he didn’t leave me alone I’d have the bouncers throw him out. His response was something along the lines of ‘bitch!’. I didn’t care about the insult, I owned it because I got what I wanted, to be left alone. The point is though that I shouldn’t have had to do that.

Here are just a few highlights of how this has affected me, it is by no means a complete or comprehensive list.

I was at work once when a co-worker put his hands on me, even after I told him I was happily married and not interested. I pushed him away and told him if he did it again I’d lay him out, or words to that effect, and I spent the rest of my shift making sure I was never alone with him. Again something I shouldn’t have had to do.

Working close in a bar one night, and a male patron tells a very heavily pregnant me, that he’d show me his dick if I let him get another drink. I’ve always wondered what the bouncer saw on my face that night because that patron was rushed out of the bar so quickly I don’t think he understood what was going on. A comment like that should never be acceptable.

Again working in a bar a young guy thought stalking me would be a fun idea. Nothing I said made a difference. What did make the difference was one of the men I worked with. He took him outside one night and five minutes later bought my stalker back in crying, to apologise to me. I never had another problem with that particular person.

As a little positive note, thank you for those men who have stood with me, or got out in front of me.

This kind of thing has been in my life from a very young age. I was incredibly fortunate, my mother paid attention. An off handed comment from me at about the age of 6 led my mother to believe my best friends brother had been inappropriate and she refused to allow me to be over at their place unsupervised. Personally I have no recollection of this but my mother certainly did.

When I started dating my now husband, his ‘best friend’ said to me ‘I won’t take you away from him’, like I was some object to be stolen without a will or a thought of my own. My response in this instance was to inform him I was in no way interested in him and if he tried I’d chew him up and spit him out before breakfast. What gave him the right. (As a little side note I believe I made him cry on possibly more than one occasion because of things he said or did.)

Harassment takes many forms and to my mind bullying and harassment has gotten so much worse since I was a kid. The things my eldest daughter has been subjected to make me so mad and so angry. Sexual harassment has been added into this. The things that some of the boys at school have said and done have meant I have told her that I will stand beside her all the way should she have to use physical means to defend herself or someone else. No it’s not ideal but I will not have her believing she has to sit back and take this crap.

My girls and I all do self-defence, the sheer number of women’s self-defence classes should let us know just how wide this problem stretches. I’ve even gone as far to walk my girls through certain senarios because I’m that concerned about this. My children should not have to know what to do in the event someone tries to attack or rape them. They shouldn’t come home and ask what to do when a boy touches them or makes a sexual comment to them.

I realise there are those who still hold onto the victim blaming culture. I can tell you that there have been times I’ve dressed to accentuate my assests, I do occasionally like to look good but that doesn’t equate to permission. When I was young I dressed that way because as a bullied and somewhat fractured young woman I was simultaneously wanting approval, and society taught me approval comes from sexual appreciation, whilst trying to wrest control of that from the men and boys, to put myself in the driver’s seat. It was to my mind, a variation of the word wall I spoke about in the beginning, it was a way of changing the balance of control.

We build the defences we can and we push a great majority of these things aside and just get on with life. We do this because hitting your head against a wall of those telling you it’s nothing, it doesn’t matter, or to just get over it, gets tiring, not to mention headache inducing. The point though is we shouldn’t have to.

I find it incredibly sad that it has taken the fall of a celebrity to give this movement so much power but by goodness we need to use this momentum while we can to affect the changes we are so desperately in need of. It starts in our homes, work places and schools. It starts across genders. It starts with women not sniping at each other and to stand united. It takes men to understand that, for every time you didn’t believe, didn’t step up for a woman in the multitude of situations you’ve seen, didn’t help when they asked, or dismissed their concerns, that it did damage.

I consider myself a strong woman who certainly knows how to fight her own battles. You know what though? It is tiring. There have been times I’ve wished I simply didn’t have to stand up to a guy whilst other men stood around enjoying the show or ignoring it completely.

We need to come together, the good, the light that is in humanity, I have to believe we can put our egos aside and stand, arm in arm, in the face of inequality (subtle harassment) and the more blatant extremes – words, actions, and all the variations in between, and stare it down. To say NO MORE. That behaviour is no longer acceptable.

United things can be changed, not the past but we can learn.

When A Publishing Plan Goes Wrong

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I’ve wanted to be an author for as long as I can remember. There were countless hours spent pounding out stories on an old typewriter at my parents kitchen table. Writing is something I’ve always done, not always in the same format, poetry, stories, plays and novels. Always, however writing.

Being a published author has been a dream, a goal of mine and it is one I have been working towards. I worked at it, I researched it, I networked. I read, voraciously. Then I wrote, and I wrote and I rewrote. Then finally I submitted to a competition, (not the first one I’d ever submitted too and not the first novel I finally finished). Much to my delight I made it through the first cut. Top 40 of 260. The next logical step was to submit to agents and publishers. After which I got a whole lot of nothing and a couple of rejections.

There was no way I was giving up on this, I loved my story, I believed in my story for as much as letting other people read it was terrifying.

The next step I decided on was manuscript assessment. A process no scarier than letting anyone read it, except hopefully if they didn’t hate it they would be able to help me figure out what I could do to improve it. The feedback I got was thankfully positive, I was thrilled that someone else liked my story. The best thing was this was where I got the best piece of advice, ‘it’s really good but a structural rewrite, if you want to put in the effort, will make it great.’ That one suggestion and I finally understood some earlier feedback that had made no sense to me.

This began the biggest part of my journey. I wrote, whenever I could, a scene here a scene there. I added, I took away. It was slow going, very slow going because when you are a wife, and mother as well as juggling work, it can be difficult to find time. Added to that was the fact this wasn’t the only project I was working on, sometimes inspiration for this project simply dried up but other ideas would just flow.

Then I had an amazing breakthrough. I got my version of the elevator pitch with a boutique publisher. Somehow I sold him on my story when I sold him on myself and my work ethic. He asked for what I had, which to be honest was an incomplete and patchy story. This kick started my writing again with vengeance. I wrote, rewrote and edited the first 50 pages and sent it off.

Even with no contract and no solid deadline it lit a fire in my belly. The writing burned through me and the story finally found it’s voice and form. The publisher got back to me and said as soon as I was done he wanted to offer me a contract. You may know how happy I was that day, it was as if everything I had worked for and through had been validated. Working my arse off I got it finished and finally got my contract.

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It would be wonderful if that was the end of the story. If we started editing and my book made it out into the world.

Instead I got

Nothing.

A few months after I signed my contract the publisher decided to go on indefinite hiatus due to stress. This left me in some state of limbo. What could I do, technically I was still in contract and he hadn’t closed the business just said he needed a break. I figured, that was probably a good enough reason to break contract if I needed too so I started putting out feelers again. Not a lot but a few, and there were no bites.

Then, from out of nowhere, when my contract was closer to its end than beginning, the publisher decides to go ahead and send me the first lot of edits, asking me how I would like to go forward. I was hesitant but the lure of publication is strong.

By this time though I had re-edited my story yet again, why not, it can always be improved. So I added his edits and sent off the new version. Then…

Nothing.

I send a message about cover art, because an artist I know has created a beautiful pic for me that I really wanted to use. I get a positive response.

Next thing I know a friend messages me and asks if I’m okay with the fact my publisher has decided to close his doors. That was the first I heard about it, then came the bulk email.

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I was heartbroken and so incredibly angry. I know there were extenuating circumstances, and I truly believe he didn’t mean for this to be the end result but it still felt like a crushing rejection. I ranted, I cried, I poured my frustrations out to an author I admire, who surprisingly answered me with some good advice.

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At this point you realise you have two choices. You either give up or you pick yourself up and push forward. I’m not much of a quitter, this is not something I’d spent a few weeks or months on and had little invested in, this was something I’d been working towards the greater part of my whole life.

Publishing is not an easy industry to break into and with the advances in technology I realised I had another choice; traditional publishing or self-publishing. My heart wanted me to go traditional, that was my dream. To have someone believe enough in my story to want to share it with others. I really wanted to be able to put a book in people’s hands. That path though could mean years of submitting and waiting and most likely a lot of rejections. Self-publishing meant I could get it out there by the time I was originally supposed to be published.

I bit the bullet. I love my story, I believe in myself (sometimes – so it must have been a good self-esteem day I made the decision) and I wanted to go forward rather than sit in a holding pattern indefinitely. I found myself an editor and hit send. I already had the art I wanted for my cover art and I know a wonderfully talented graphic designer who was happy to put the cover together for me.

When my editor got back to me saying that at times it ‘was like reading an already published book’, I couldn’t have been happier. With feedback like that you’d think it would be easy to upload to the e-book site and hit submit. One button and it is all done. That one button though carried a lot of weight, all my hopes and fears resting on one small click. In the end my hubby said ‘just do it,’ and I really had to take that chance on myself.

Publishing is scary, putting yourself out there in such a way opens you up to people you might otherwise hide from. Self-publishing may even be more so because at the end of the day you are the only one who believes in what you have done, it is all on you (friends and family don’t really count here, they are supposed to believe in you and support you).

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This is my journey so far. Not the one I wanted but the one I ended up with. I haven’t made my millions, I haven’t sold 50 copies as yet, but I have had great feedback from a large number of those who have read it. I’ve found some fans and even had my first royalty payment. All of which is better than nothing and better than not taking that chance in the first place.

 

So Many Thoughts

I have so many things spinning around in my head.

Some times it is so confusing in there. There are so many stories floating around at times. It’s difficult to focus on just one. So right now I’m working on a couple of things. First edit of book two is a current big red mess. Well the first 100 pages at any rate.

My other project I’ve not touched whilst I’ve been on leave. Instead I’ve worked on knitting and sewing projects. Creative is creative after all. I quite like doing creative things with my hands there is something incredibly satisfying in it. It is just something I don’t do very often anymore as I have so many things going on.

It can be a very full schedule when you’re a wife, mother, full time employee and a writer. Oh there is also my convention habit.

I love my life, mostly. I guess I just wish things would happen faster. I wish I was already published, I wish certain other things had gone my way and a few other things were different. Things that I don’t need the world to know but that would make my life a little easier.

Part of the problem with the internet is it is so easy to over share. I could complain about the things that have gone wrong, the problems I have, but ultimately what would be the point? Complaining online won’t solve my problems. It may be cathartic in the moment but what can it possibly achieve? It won’t fix anything, it won’t make anything go away. I don’t understand why people do it.

Whining doesn’t help in anyway. You know what does help? Getting on with life. Doing what you are good at. Fix your sights on the goal, pick yourself up out of your pity party and put one foot in front of the other. That is how you get to where you want to be.

Life for most of us is not about the quick fix, it is about the long journey. Sure there are lucky people in life, those for whom things come easy. For the rest of us we work at it. We take one step after another, stopping to recharge, refocus and step again towards that goal we hold so dear.

And Then There is Work

Perhaps one of the most frustrating things about being a writer is the fact bills still need to be paid. Even for a lot of published writers a second job is required in order for all to be covered. For me though writing is something I have to do, but as yet it contributes nothing to my bank account. So I work at a regular (or not so regular many would say) job.

It is a job that allows me flexibility to travel to conventions, which is my stress relief from the pressures of that job and general life, so that is a very good thing. I’d like to think I’m pretty good at my job, and despite its peculiarities I like my job. I just wish at times that writing contributed a little something so I could spend more time focussing on that and not need to clock in the overtime shifts in order to pay for my convention habit, and my book habit.

Ahhh the first world problems of a writer-in-training.

 

A Little Break

So, writing is a slow process, unless I suppose you are a well known and already published author. A contract has 12 to 18 months on it and that’s if things go smoothly. Sometimes things don’t go smoothly.

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They haven’t for me. I wish they had. More than anything I wish they had. My life is busy and rough enough. There are times I just get tired of pushing, pressing and moving forward. Sometimes I just want to give up.

Thing is I know well enough that I can’t walk away. I’ve been a writer, an unpublished one, for a very long time. I used to sit at my parents dining room table with an old typewriter when I was about 13 or 14 and write up my first stories. Mostly they were mystery/adventure because thats what I read. When I got older I tried my hand at bad high school romance, with characters unlike any I read because I always identified with rougher girls, more troubled girls than I read about.

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I have always written. Writing is my outlet. Sometimes there are so many ideas that I can’t keep up. If I develop even half of those ideas I am going toe busy for a very long time. Problem is I write because I have to write but there is still part of me that really wants to share my stories but I’m not willing to give all those stories away. I did start publishing a couple of stories on line years ago, but I didn’t see it through and no one seemed to care.

Publishing is a difficult mistress. Writing is a cruel bitch to be enslaved to. But I am and I find I don’t mind it much, mostly. Sometimes though the frustration. You try to hold onto the highs but the time between them is so far it can be disheartening.

During one of those lows, when my publisher had things to work through, (life interferes most inconveniently at times) I had to walk away. I was getting irritated and frustrated because nothing was moving forward.

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Creatives can’t just stop being creative though, so I walked back to the theatre. I put on another persons clothes, hair and damn four inch heels and played make believe for a little while.

It was fun and exhausting. See a writer is in many ways a homebody, this writer particularly. Oh I love being on stage, it is an amazing, adrenaline filled experience. Some of those nights though, getting myself off my couch and out of my house was a drag. The reward though… the laughter, the camaraderie, the total shedding of self to play dress up as someone totally differently.

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I love being on stage. The wonderful side effect is now I feel energised and ready to write again. I’ve been able to put pen to paper on a couple of things and feel ready to push in to the bigger ones.

Sometimes you need to step away and reinvigorate the core of you.

Life is an Awfully Big Adventure

Well it is if you want it to be I suppose.
And I want it to be.
I love my family. I love my wacked out, crazy and at times surreal life. Of all things that could happen one of the things I would hate to become is boring.
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Don’t get me wrong, some parts of my life are incredibly boring.
A writers life can be, at times, very solitary, even when you have a family and a full time job. I’m simply not much of one for going out and partying. I would much rather stay home and curl up with my hubby watching something, with my head stuck in a good book, or with a pen in hand and a notebook in front of me. I like it like this but others would find it boring.
Of course for me writing is anything but. Writing gives me the chance to escape into some amazing and fantastical places and situations. I also like to practically choreograph my fight sequences and I am blessed with a hubby who is more than happy to work on that stuff with me. On any random night we could be working out some unarmed combat, a knife fight or a sword fight. So I suppose it’s not always boring.
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Life though continues to be fun though. It can be exhausting and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I work in a high stress job and I play in the land of celebrity and pop culture.
Volunteering at SupaNova is an amazing thing for me. I have had the pleasure of meeting some wonderful actors and voice actors. I have some fun stories to tell. I have also been blessed to see fans meeting their favourite performers, it can be an incredibly touching thing. I would dare anyone to meet Peter Cullen (the voice of Optimus Prime and Eeyore), watch him with his fans and not become one yourself. I even now have a favourite dwarf. I have seen people cry and scream with delight. Say what you will about fan boys and girls but indulging in their fandom is an adventure for them and they will get the chance to say they have had moments of great joy.
It is also through this that I have made some incredible friends. In fact for me they have become very much another family to me. They get me, well bits of me that other people may not understand. That could be the key.
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In some ways many of us strive to be understood. We may say we want to be accepted but acceptance comes from understanding. Work people in my life understand parts of me, they allow me to be freer in regards to some parts of my personality than other work environments have. Let’s face it I do rather like the word ‘no’, and many jobs don’t like you using that word. Theatre people and Nova people understand the dramatic, and sometimes fangirly side of me. Of course people from both those sides accept the other side of me and it is that acceptance that really allows me to be free to enjoy the adventure in my life.
On nights like this I realise just how lucky I am. I wouldn’t say I have a lot of close friends but the ones I have are special. For those who have come into my life and who have opened their arms and accepted me, for all my quirks, moods and eccentricities, I thank you. As this year draws to an end and a new one begins, with the promise of some awesome new adventures, I look forward to sharing these with them.
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New Directions

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So this week bought with it one of those annoying curve balls.
Don’t you hate it when a sure thing becomes an impossibility. Or at least simply not going to happen at this time.
I do.
Thing is life goes on and you have a choice; you either let the crap dump all over you and beat you down or you scream and smash something then wash yourself off and start down a new path.
Me I think I’m just too damn stubborn to let the crap keep me down. I look at the steaming piles and have a tendency to shout at the world or no-one ‘is that all you’ve got! Well you’ll have to do better than that if you want to break me!’
So whilst reading something I’d started awhile ago I got an idea. A slight twist on an idea that’s simmering in the back of my mind. Well more of an addition really. I really want to do nothing more than stick my head down with a pen in my fingers and write for hours on end. The biggest problem with that is I’m tired and not really all that well. Also I have work, 5 days this week and 3 of those long ones (though one was because of family commitments). There is also the added complication of the curve ball, because that demands a lot of time now until this whole mess gets sorted out.
On the upside, when an idea is simmering in the back of your mind you are still creating. Characters are developing with every thought. Worlds are gaining dimensions and colours. Plots are twisting and layers are weaving over and through each other.
I want to write it but this story is not quite ready for that yet. Which is probably a good thing because I really just don’t have the time.
Oh and FYI I am still managing to work on my other project. Sometimes I wonder where I get the time, at least making progress only requires a few minutes to get a few sentences on paper.
A point worth remembering, progress can be measure in just the actions of a few moments.

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I’ve been really busy of late, mostly at work. 

Unfortunately life goes on and things intrude on the best laid plans. In my case; family, death, sickness and friendship. There are times the muse must be put aside and life must be seen to.

For a bit after my time off I managed to write quite consistently, but this last week and a bit it’s not gone according to plan so much.

Life though feeds us in a different way. If we are honest, even those of us who write fantasy are inspired by reality. It can sometimes be the little things that trigger amazing spurts of creativity.

Whilst I haven’t had much chance to work on my fantasy double I have had another idea that has been sitting in the melting pot that is my brain for quite a while.

It’s one of the things I love about being creative. You can’t always know where an idea will come from or where the seed will end up blooming. For me, a couple of very basic ideas have now gelled together and I have a concept for a whole other book.

Now if only I had time to get everything in my head out onto the page.

A Year Almost Gone

This has been a pretty insane year for me what with all the changes that have been in it. I have to admit this festive season simply hasn’t been conducive to writing.

Yeah I know we all need to give ourselves a break every now and then the problem is that when I don’t write I feel guilty for wasting my time.

This is a very silly thing…probably. I work shift work, 12 hour shifts, I am a wife and mother and have three blogs and review for a fourth. In between this I need to read because two of those blogs are review sites.

I try to keep on top of it I really do.

Something has to give though because quite simply as a creative type, in fact as any working person we need to allow ourselves time to unwind. I suppose a lot or even most people don’t have a problem with this. My problem though is I still really want to be a published writer. I want to finish my books, I want to get the stories out of my head and share them with others. So how do I do all that is on my schedule?

Well I’ll let you know when I figure that one out. In fact maybe it will be something I can package and sell. Nah I know how hard it is to fit in the creative in a society that expects to be entertained but isn’t all that interested in letting the creatives have the time to create.

I will come closer to my goal this year. It is inevitable I simply have to write (when I can fit it in) and the stories don’t stop even when I don’t get to put the pen to paper.

Though I suppose I did get published in a way this year, I wrote my class graduation speech (in the form of a poem) and it impressed some people enough that it got printed in the internal magazine for the organisation I work for. That’s better than nothing right?